


The Hole In The Floor

by theron09



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Bromance, Family, Fluff, Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-03 22:17:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1073698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theron09/pseuds/theron09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an ideal world, Stiles would have liked to meet the hot guy who lives in the apartment below his by bumping into him in the stairwell. Instead, his first glimpse of Derek is through a hole in his apartment floor. A hole that he and Scott put there. </p><p>As Stiles and Scott struggle with the trials of growing up, Stiles becomes more and more fascinated with Derek. But does the man in the apartment below even want to know Stiles? And, if he does, can Stiles manage to avoid scaring him away?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hole In The Floor

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as part of the teenwolf_bb challenge over at livejournal and was initially inspired by a prompt from my very good friend ishilde.
> 
> Thanks to thecheekydragon for not only making the fantastic art that goes with this fic (you can find it at http://archiveofourown.org/works/1071378 - please go and check it out) but for also being very patient with me when real life got stressful! I've really enjoyed working with you on this. 
> 
> Thanks to seraphina_snape over at lj for the beta - you = lifesaver!
> 
> (Just as a warning, the fic contains a couple of instances of strong language)

 

 

There’s a hole in the floor.

It’s not a huge hole, but it’s big enough that a person could easily fall through it.

Stiles kneels down next to it and peers through into the apartment below. “Hey, that apartment is so much nicer than ours – that doesn’t seem fair.”

“That’s what you’re focusing on right now?”

He turns to look at Scott, barely resisting the urge to bite his lip, and asks, “any chance that was there before we went a little crazy?”

Scott shakes his head. “I think we would have noticed. Man, we broke our new apartment.”

“It’s technically not new. I mean, it’s new to us but it’s _old_ , right? That’s why – the hole.”

Tilting his head, Scott lowers himself down onto the floor next to Stiles. “The jumping probably had something to do with it.”

Unfortunately, Stiles has to agree with Scott’s reasoning. But, hey, they take their Xbox sessions very seriously – it’s not their fault their new-old apartment isn’t built to withstand excitement. “What do we do?”

“Call your dad?”

“What, and tell him we’ve been here less than forty-eight hours and we’ve already screwed up? I don’t think so. We should call your mom.”

“I don’t want to,” says Scott.

“Why not?”

“She said us living together wasn’t a good idea – something about chaos.”

“So we can’t call my dad and we can’t call your mom. I don’t know about you but I’m seriously short on cash because of the whole moving into an apartment thing – I’m not sure we could afford a repairman.”

“Shouldn’t we tell the owner?” asks Scott.

“That’s a stupid idea. Oh hi, we broke your place _on our first day_.”

“So what? We wait until we can afford repairs?”

“Yes – which means no parents coming around here until then. And we have to warn any other guests about the hole. And remember it ourselves.”

Scott nods and glances towards the Xbox. “No more jumping.”

“No more _excessive_ jumping, and we should be fine,” says Stiles.

Almost as soon as he finishes his sentence there’s a loud cursing noise. It takes Stiles a moment to realize where it’s coming from, and he jumps away from the hole as though it’s going to reach out and pull him through. Oh right. Their floor is also someone else’s ceiling. 

Someone they haven’t met yet and who could potentially already be on the phone to the building’s owner to report the damage.

“Dude,” Scott says, “we have to talk to our downstairs neighbor.”

Stiles groans; he’d been hoping to make a better impression on their building-buddies (as he’s termed them). “Oh my god. What do we say?”

“That we’re going to get repairs done?” Scott lowers his voice. “I mean, we can stall for a while, right? Tell them the repairman keeps letting us down or something.”

“That’s sneaky. I like it.” Stiles looks back at the hole. “Should we just-”

Scott cuts him off before he can voice his suggestion. “We should go knock on the door downstairs. It’s probably more polite.”

Sighing, Stiles starts to pull on his sneakers – he totally blames Scott for the hole because, seriously, his socked feet couldn’t have done all that much damage.

“I really hope this isn’t an omen,” says Scott.

Stiles doesn’t reply, just shrugs and heads for the door. He doesn’t really believe in the whole omen thing. As far as he’s concerned, everything is a matter of chance. You can work hard all your life, like his dad, and bad things will still happen to you. Everything has its consequences, but sometimes things go wrong just because. Breaking a mirror or stepping on cracks in the pavement doesn’t change any of that.

“Have you got your key?” asks Scott, pausing with his hand on the door handle. “We don’t want to get locked out on top of, you know, the other situation.”

He checks his pockets. “Yeah, I have my key. I also have your key, I think, although I’m not entirely sure why but, hey, it means we’re double-covered.”

Scott nods and pulls the door shut. “You should do the talking downstairs.”

“Why?”

“Because I want people to like me and if I explain this to the guy downstairs he’ll forever associate me with it.”

“Oh, so I get the blame instead?” Stiles complains, but leads the way downstairs anyway. He doesn’t really mind.

Their apartment building isn’t exactly the best place they could be living in town – there’s graffiti scrawled onto the walls (which had made his dad raise his eyebrows) and cans littering the stairwell – but he already feels comfortable, as though he can make do with living in it until either he and Scott can afford a nicer place or they get sick of fending for themselves and move back in with their parents. Privately, Stiles thinks Scott will be the first to cave.

Stopping outside the apartment directly underneath theirs, Stiles pulls a face at Scott. “Do you think we’re going to get shouted at?”

“Possibly. Probably. Yeah.”

“Great. I feel so much better now.” Raising his fist, Stiles gives two sharp knocks on the door. Confidence, his dad always tells him, can help a lot in this sort of situation. He hopes.

There’s a moment where Stiles is eighty per cent sure they’re going to be ignored, twenty per cent sure they’re going to get shot at, and then the door swings open to reveal their downstairs neighbor.

Stiles gapes.

The guy’s dressed in sweatpants and an old ratty t-shirt and still looks thirty times better than he can ever hope to look. Dark hair, slight stubble and…Stiles realizes he’s staring. Gaping.

Scott clears his throat. Oh yeah, Stiles is meant to be doing the talking.

“We live upstairs,” he says, “hi.”

The guy arches one eyebrow, doesn’t say a word.

“We’re responsible for the mess. I mean the hole. You might have noticed it. In your ceiling?”

“Yeah. I saw.” The guy – _man_ – speaks in a tone that doesn’t give anything away, which doesn’t help Stiles all that much because he wants to know if his new building-buddy is angry or amused or completely indifferent. For reasons. Reasons that _mostly_ involve not wanting to be punched in the face, or kicked out of the building.

“It was an accident,” Stiles says. “Duh, obviously it was an accident. Who would make a hole in the floor on purpose? That’d be creepy.” Actually, Stiles is sure it’s something he’d have considered had he seen this guy before making the hole, but he’s not going to admit to that in public, or ever.

“It’s an old building,” hot building-buddy says.

“Exactly. It _is._ It really is. Anyway, we’ll get it fixed but we were kind of hoping you might not report it to the owner. Only, we just moved in and-”

“You’re going to get it fixed?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

“Then it’s all good.”

“Cool.” Stiles grins. “I’m Stiles and-” he introduces himself to a door, because hot and apparently grumpy building-buddy has already closed it in his face.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Scott says.

“Wasn’t so bad? He couldn’t wait to get away.”

“Maybe he’s just shy. Besides, he’s not going to cause trouble and tell the owner, and he didn’t seem too angry. We’re good.”

“Except for the hole in our floor,” says Stiles.

“Yeah, except for that.”

~~

The thing is, when Stiles had first broached the idea of moving out and moving in with Scott to his dad, his dad had said two things. First, that he hoped Stiles knew what he was doing. Second, that he hoped Stiles knew what he was doing moving in with _Scott_ of all people. When Stiles had told Scott this, his best friend had been a little offended, but Stiles thinks he kind of understands what his dad meant. Stiles on his own can be a little silly, get into quite a lot of trouble. Stiles _with_ Scott results in things like holes in the floor and being thrown out of grocery stores for making too much noise (which Stiles still, two years later, doesn’t quite understand because how can you make too much noise in a _grocery store_ which is a noisy place by default).

Still, as he and Scott traipse back into their apartment after the encounter with the guy who now has a new decorative hole in his ceiling, Stiles can’t help but grin because the reason he and Scott make such good friends is precisely because they get into situations like this together. Scott is the only one of his friends who understands why Stiles has to sleep in the room _with_ the noisy heating unit, and who won’t get mad at Stiles when he accidentally sets off the fire alarm at four in the morning making pancakes. So his dad’s warning was fair, but Stiles ignoring it and moving in with Scott anyway was also fair.

“We should invite people around tomorrow,” Scott says, “housewarming, you know?”

“And by people you mean Allison.”

“And Lydia and Jackson. Danny too if he wants to.”

Stiles nods. It actually isn’t a bad idea – they have to have people around at some point, and he’s been wanting to ask Danny about the pros and cons of a new club in town anyway. Plus, seeing Danny is always a good thing. They might have discovered they didn’t make good boyfriends in high school, but they’d also discovered they made _great_ friends.

“Do we want a party with everyone or a movie night with fewer people?” asks Scott, already pulling out his phone.

“Movie night. Party equals alcohol which equals money, plus it’s probably wise not to make too much noise. Mr. Grumpy-one-floor-down could still change his mind about reporting the damage.”

“You sound like you’re being sensible.” Scott wrinkles his nose.

“I am being sensible. I’m _twenty_ , Scott. At some point we have to start choosing movie nights over getting drunk. It’s, like, a rule or something.”

“But if we were at college-”

“Which we’re not.”

“We would be-”

“Which we aren’t.”

Stiles doesn’t hang around for Scott to say anything else, instead heading towards the kitchen to see if he can find any take-out menus. Not being at college is a choice they both made – Stiles, because he wants to work for a couple of years before deciding where to ultimately go with his life (he’s leaning towards the academy). Scott, because he wanted to stick around for his mom for a little longer – but it’s also a bit of a sore spot because Scott keeps analysing everything they do alongside how their lives could be going and Stiles just sort of wishes Scott had realized his mom could cope without him and taken the leap. Now that Scott’s moved out of his childhood home (albeit not far), Stiles is going to work on pushing him off that particular cliff.

“We could invite the guy from downstairs,” Scott says, following Stiles into the kitchen.

“I don’t think inflicting Jackson on him so soon after breaking his apartment is a good way to make friends.” He finds the take-out menus his fad had left under the pile of recipes Scott’s mom had insisted on giving them, even though Stiles _can_ actually cook. “Pizza or something else?”

“Pizza.” Scott grabs the menu out of Stiles’ hand and leans up against the counter. “We should go shopping tomorrow so we can honestly tell people we’re living on something other than take-out.”

“Deal. Maybe we can actually cook something for everyone tomorrow.”

“I can ask Allison to bring cake for after.”

“Sounds good.” It sounds _great_ , actually, as though they’re on track to being functioning adults living together in an apartment where they might actually eat real food and keep it mostly clean.

It’s just a pity about the hole in the floor.

Scott rings in an order for their pizza as Stiles begins to write a list of what they’ll need to buy tomorrow. When they’d moved in on Monday, they’d refused Stiles’ dad’s offer to get them stocked up on food to start them off, so they’re pretty much starting from scratch. They’re okay for pots and pans, though, because everyone from Deaton to Danny’s mom (who Stiles loves for more than just her awesome cooking) has made donations. Stiles thinks the two of them must just give off a helpless vibe, which is understandable given the amount of sticky situations they seem to find themselves in.

“Do you think we should buy in stuff to make smoothies tomorrow?” asks Stiles, even though he’s fairly sure that would be an inappropriate use of money considering they have other things to be using money for.

“Do we even have a blender?”

“No.”

“Probably not then,” says Scott, “we could buy some chocolate milk, though. Put it down on the list.”

Stiles does, adding a huge FOR SCOTT next to the item in case anyone happens to see the piece of paper. He’s an adult now – chocolate milk is out for him as far as anyone other than Scott is concerned. He’s about to tell Scott that when he hears music. Seventies rock, he thinks, from the sound of it, but it’s not loud enough for him to know for sure. The walls in the building are thin, he knows, so he thinks it’s the neighbors at first until he and Scott head back into the living room and the music gets a little louder.

Apparently, grumpy building-buddy likes _Deep Purple_.

“Maybe we should ask him what movie he wants to listen to tomorrow,” Scott quips.

“Maybe we should think about getting that hole fixed sooner rather than later,” Stiles replies.

~~

When Stiles is reduced to checking the pockets of all his jeans for any money he may have left in there just to have enough for them to pay for the pizza, he realizes that _sooner rather than later_ might not work no matter their good intentions.

“I need to get another job,” he says. He’s been doing shifts at the restaurant around the corner from his dad’s house for the last couple of years, which is how he had enough saved to move out, but it’s not going to be enough to cover rent and food as well as any other expenses that come up. “Or at least pick up more shifts.”

Scott places the pizza box in the middle of the couch – they haven’t got a table yet – and flops down next to it. “I can ask Deaton if he has anything going?”

“I mean this in the nicest way possible,” says Stiles, “but I think us living _and_ working together might be a bit much, even when it’s you. No, I figure I’ll either talk to Harry about picking up more shifts, or I’ll try and find a more full time job doing something else.”

“Like what?”

He shrugs, picking up a slice of the pizza. “Something I’m good at – research or something maybe.”

“Research. That’s vague.”

“Vague is the way forward, didn’t you hear?”

“Funny,” Scott says, around a mouthful of pizza.

Stiles thinks it’s _funny_ his friend doesn’t eat like that around Allison even after dating for two years, although he doesn’t voice his amusement.  “Seriously, though, I need a better job otherwise you’re going to have to start keeping me in food and clothes.”

“Okay, then.” Scott says, “we have a plan. You get a job, I ask Deaton for more shifts, and when we’ve saved enough money the first thing we do is fix the hole.”

It sounds simple when Scott puts it like that, so Stiles just nods and takes a bite of his pizza, putting the issue out of his mind as Scott moves the conversation onto other things. After all, he’s still young.

~~

“Do you have any yoghurt?” Lydia asks, as she carries through a plate full of food. “And a table? I didn’t come back to Beacon Hills for the holidays just to eat without a table.”

“We’re using that box right there.” Stiles points towards it. “And yoghurt?”

“To go with the fajitas, of course.”

“I think there’s some in the fridge,” says Scott, “I’ll get it.”

“Thank you,” says Lydia, sitting down onto the couch next to Jackson as Danny pulls over the box-table.

Stiles takes up a spot on the floor with his plate laden with food, resting back against the edge of the couch. It feels good to finally be able to have friends over to his own place. His dad’s always been good with his friends, but there’s still always this feeling of still being six years old and having play dates when his dad comes in and asks if they’ve had enough to eat.  Here, he sets his own rules.

“What movie are we watching?” asks Danny, dropping down next to Stiles.

“I have no idea,” he says, “Lydia’s choosing. I’m not quite sure why.”

“Maybe you can answer something else then.”

“Sure.”

“Why is there a hole in your floor?” Danny gestures towards said hole, which Jackson has just managed to avoid falling through.

“That, uh, that wasn’t intentional.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“So what did happen?” asks Jackson.

“We’re still not sure,” says Scott, returning from the kitchen with a pot of yoghurt that he hands to Lydia immediately, “it involved an Xbox and-”

“Enough said,” says Allison, “I think we can imagine.”

“Why don’t you try to at least cover it up with something?” asks Lydia.

Scott nods, looking a little sheepish. “We tried that this morning. It… didn’t end well – for the box we covered it with or for me. I tripped.”

 “Any of you happen to know someone who can fix it cheaply?” It’s a long shot, Stiles knows, but it’s worth asking. He discovered in senior year that Jackson has this knack for being able to have connections who can help with almost any type of problem.

“I did,” Jackson says, “but I pissed him off before I went to college and he hasn’t talked to me since.”

“Could you-”

“No.”

Danny nudges Stiles in the side. “Jackson doesn’t like to mend bridges with anyone other than me.”

“And that’s only because you make awesome hot chocolate,” Jackson says, smirking the smirk that usually means trouble except when it’s directed at Danny. Then, Stiles is pretty sure, it’s meant to be fond.

Danny tears off a chunk of his bread and throws it at Jackson, but it misses and goes straight past him through the hole. “No marshmallows for you next time.”

Jackson grins, and grabs a chunk of chicken from Lydia’s plate, tossing it wildly in Danny’s general direction. And it’s on. While Scott protests loudly about how it’s a new apartment and he’s probably the one who’ll have to clean the mess up, food goes flying. Stiles uses Danny as a human shield – because he started it, after all  - and tries not to be offended when a food missile thrown by Lydia hits his cheek instead of hitting Danny.

It’s not very adult of them, but it sure is fun.

Right up until the moment when it happens.

Stiles has just had the genius idea of using spoons to flick yoghurt at Scott when there’s a loud shout from downstairs.

“Why is there food raining from my ceiling?”

They all freeze. It’d be comical if it wasn’t for the fact they’ve been caught out. Again.

Stiles laughs anyway – it’s a nervous thing – and he’s too busy doing that that he isn’t aware enough to fight against the way he’s being pulled around until he realizes they’ve all maneuvered him in front of the hole and backed away, leaving him to be the spokesperson. _Of course._

“Um, hi,” he says, “you might remember me. I’m Stiles.”

“Derek,” the guy says, “you want to explain what’s going on?”

“Housewarming movie night. I am so, so sorry. We forgot about the…décor addition and we totally didn’t mean to make a mess of your apartment as well as our own. I’ll – someone will be down straight away to clear it up for you.”

“No,” Derek says quickly, “I’ll deal with it. I don’t want strangers traipsing through my apartment. Just don’t let it happen again.”

“Yes.”

“And get that hole fixed.”

“Of course.” Stiles keeps staring over the edge of the hole – he can’t bring himself to move – until Derek practically huffs and walks away, and Scott grips Stiles by the shoulders and pulls him backwards.

“I can’t decide whether he took that well or whether he’s just so grumpy it makes him sound like he doesn’t care,” says Allison, reaching for the large jug of water they’d set on the floor. “But hey, if it means we only need to clean one apartment that’s good either way, right?”

“Yeah,” says Scott, “maybe we shouldn’t have any more food fights for a while, though.”

“You say that like we have them all the time.”

Stiles stands and goes to see if they’ve managed to acquire a dustpan and brush yet. By the time he finds one, the others are all picking bits of food off their clothes and talking about something other than what Stiles really wants to talk about: namely, is there any way he can ever possibly redeem himself in Derek’s eyes?

It’s not even because Derek’s hot. Not really. It’s just that Stiles really wants to make a good impression on the people in this building, and hopefully avoid sparking some sort of a feud with the guy downstairs (even though it does sound like an epic movie idea - he makes a mental note).

Plus, Derek’s hot.

“Are you going to do something with that dustpan?” asks Jackson. “Or just stand there all day?”

“I thought standing seemed like a good idea,” he says, even as he starts to help clear up. The quicker they can get it done, the quicker they can get to watching the movie and Stiles can drown out his own thoughts with those of the characters on screen. “Although maybe we should go to your place so we don’t annoy Mr. Downstairs.”

“We’re not going to have it on loud,” says Lydia, “besides, he’s making enough noise with his cooking.”

Sure enough, when Stiles stops to listen he can hear the clattering of pots and pans clear as anything. “Movie here it is, then.” It’s not like the walls in this place are super thick; Derek can probably hear every time his neighbors watch TV, it’s not going to make that much difference to him to hear their TV too.

Scott grins. “Let’s roll.”

~~

The next day, Stiles’ alarm goes off way too early and he mentally tells himself off for his good intentions when he’d gone to bed. Getting up bright and early had seemed like such a great idea at two in the morning but now, just five hours later, he’s wondering why nobody thought to talk him out of it. He holds his pillow over his face for a few seconds before sighing and sitting up in bed. Through the open door of his bedroom he can see Danny still fast asleep on the couch – he’s probably not going to be awake for at least another couple of hours yet.

Still, Stiles is awake now and knows from experience he won’t be able to get back to sleep so he gets up and dressed as quietly as possible – no point in waking everyone else out of spite.

He leaves a note on the fridge for Scott ( _back later, Scotty boy – have things to do that don’t involve you_ _J_ _)_ and heads to the station, picking up a paper on the way. He’s ninety per cent sure his dad will be at work, and even if he isn’t Stiles is usually pretty welcome there.

His dad is in his office and filling in paperwork which Stiles thinks is perfect because paperwork is something he can distract his dad from. If his dad had been interviewing someone or poring over case files, his aim to talk about jobs would have been so much harder to achieve.

“Missing me?” he asks, dropping into the chair in the corner of the office.

“Stiles, I’ve seen you every day since you moved out.”

“Not the point.” He turns to the jobs section of the paper and pulls a pen out of his pocket. “The point is I need a job.”

“You have a job,” his dad says, glancing up from his work.

“I need a better job, with more hours and better pay. Know of anything?”

“Frank might have something going – I’ll ask him.”

“Awesome. Frank pays well.”

“He’s also,” his dad uses his placating tone, the one he used to use when Stiles thought it’d be a good idea to make a jump from the roof of the garage with a curtain tied around his shoulders, “a decent guy.”

“Yeah, that too.” Circling something that looks promising, Stiles hums to himself.

“How’s it going with Scott?”

“Good. We had people round yesterday – made fajitas and they were _good_ even if I do say so myself.”

“I’m betting you were involved in the cooking more than Scott?”

“I’ve been cooking for longer than him.” Stiles shrugs. “Scott did the salad and cleaned the dishes.”

“Sounds fair. And there’ve been no problems? No bickering or broken things or anything?”

Stiles pauses. It’d be so easy to tell his dad about their mishap and let someone else fix it. “Nope,” he says, instead. “Honestly, Dad, it’s like you have no faith in us whatsoever.”

“Honestly? I don’t-”

“Please, for the sake of our relationship, do not finish that sentence.”

“What I was going to say wasn’t bad.”

“Glad to hear it,” says Stiles. “Seriously, though, are things okay at home? You’re eating well?”

His dad nods. “I’ve been eating the stuff you left in the freezer. Don’t worry – I can look after myself, you know.”

“I know. Me too.” Stiles grins lopsidedly at his dad and goes back to hunting for jobs as they fall into a comfortable silence. He’s glad his dad’s been eating well; maybe tomorrow he’ll cook up some things to freeze and take to him for next week.

“Man,” his dad sighs after a couple of minutes, “re-organizing these shifts is a headache.”

“Well, you need something to give you a headache now I’m not around as much.” Stiles waggles his eyebrows.

His dad laughs. “Yeah, there is that.”

~~

It’s almost lunch time when Stiles arrives back at their apartment building, having dropped off his CV at a few places and picked up some extra groceries to make meals for his dad. There’s a few kids hanging around on their bikes outside and Stiles shoots them a grin (part of his be friendly to everyone in the building - even the kids who glare at him - scheme) before heading inside.

He’s taking the stairs two at a time, eyes on the ground so that he doesn’t trip up (because that’s a thing that’s happened before), when he suddenly comes into contact with someone. Actually, collides would be a better term. His shopping slips from his hands and he barely manages to keep himself upright by grabbing onto the person in front of him. And then he looks up and sees Derek looking very startled and promptly lets go of the very solid arm he’s hanging onto.

“Fancy bumping into you,” he says stupidly, and then, “sorry, that was – sorry for bumping into you.”

“You weren’t watching where you were going.”

“Actually, I was. I was watching the floor. It’s the only way I can make sure I don’t trip.” Belatedly, he remembers that grabbing onto Derek had just been the only thing that stopped him falling down the stairs. “In theory, anyway. Clearly, it doesn’t work in practice.”

“Clearly.” Derek clears his throat and tries to move around Stiles.

“Heading out?” he asks, stepping in Derek’s way without even thinking about it.

“Trying to. You keep getting in my way.”

“Oh, yeah.” He moves aside. “I promise I can function really. I just seem to be clumsy around you.”

Derek arches an eyebrow.

“I mean – not clumsy around you because of anything to do with you, you just seem to be witnessing all of my clumsy moments. Although last night was totally not my fault – the food throwing was not initiated by me in any way.”

“Can I go down the stairs now or are you going to step in front of me again?”

“Yes. I mean, no – I won’t get in the way.”

Derek nods, and carries on down the stairs. Stiles turns and watches him go because, really, Derek’s ass just invites watching and Stiles has embarrassed himself to the point where it doesn’t really matter if he gets caught anymore. Clearly, he and Derek are destined to clash.

Once Derek’s out of sight, Stiles gathers up his groceries and continues up to his apartment. Scott’s stretched out on the couch reading a book and raises a hand in greeting as Stiles walks past him into the kitchen.

“Everyone said bye – Lydia said she’d try and meet up with you before she heads back to college.”

“Cool,” says Stiles, “ _try_ means it’ll definitely happen, unlike _maybe_ which would have meant it really wouldn’t.”

“Thanks for the lesson in Lydia speak.”

In the kitchen, Stiles unloads the food and listens as Scott tells him something about Allison. What his friend is saying, he’s not entirely sure about but he reckons it’s probably a variation of Allison being awesome (something which Stiles knows already) so it’s probably okay to just let Scott talk without a completely captive audience.

“Dude, are you even listening?”

 _Obviously not,_ Stiles thinks, _because I didn’t hear you walking into the room._ “Sure,” he says lightly, “I’m just multi-tasking. Did you know Derek from downstairs has really nice arms?”

“What?”

“Like, they’re really good to hold onto if, say, you’re about to fall down the stairs and break your arm.”

Scott sighs. “You fell down the stairs again?”

“ _About to._ I said _about to._ Now who isn’t listening?” Stiles holds up a tomato. “Do you think I should make a pasta with tomato sauce for my dad? He’s not that big on pasta but-”

“Make it – decision made.” Scott grins. “You talked to Derek, then?”

“I talked _at_ Derek – he wasn’t all that keen on talking back.”

“We have kind of been really bad upstairs neighbors so far.”

“We could have been worse.”

“How?” Scott asks, pulling a bottle of water out of the fridge.

Stiles thinks for a moment, and then shakes his head. “Actually, no, scratch that. We suck. From now on, we need to be awesome upstairs neighbors.”

“How do we do that?”

“We be awesome. Simple.”

~~

Stiles launches his _be awesome upstairs neighbors and maybe make friends with Derek_ scheme the very next morning in a spectacular fashion. Namely, he spends a good forty minutes in the kitchen until he manages to make a practically perfect batch of pancakes (practically perfect because completely perfect would just give Derek ridiculously high expectations of Stiles’ cooking abilities for the future) and then tries to gently lower a box full down through the hole using a rope. He only realizes his mistake in risking using hole rather than using the stairs like a normal person when Derek walks out of one of the other rooms minus a shirt. This startles Stiles, who promptly drops said box of pancakes too soon and they spill out all over Derek’s head.

Needless to say, Derek isn’t impressed by Stiles’ cooking abilities. In fact, their downstairs neighbor uses words like _imbecile_ and _terrorized_ and Stiles thinks rather than taking a step forwards they’ve taken three steps back.

“Why were you making me pancakes?” Derek asks, after he asks _why didn’t you use the stairs?_ and _are you completely stupid?_ and _what did I do to deserve this?_

Stiles runs a hand across his hair awkwardly and sighs, shifting so that he’s sitting with his legs crossed rather than kneeling. “Believe it or not, it was meant to be a gesture.”

“A gesture?”

“An apology of sorts, a promise that Scott and I really aren’t as sucky as our first impression made us seem. Although clearly I _do_ suck.” Stiles can only half-see, but he’s pretty sure Derek smirks.

“And you thought pancakes were the way to do that?” Derek asks, swiping a bit of syrup of his own cheek with a thumb and sticking it in his mouth to taste.

“My pancakes are actually quite awesome – when they’re not being thrown on top of you.”

Derek grins, _actually grins_ , and says, “pancakes are always pretty awesome. Seriously, though, I think you’re trying too hard. You want us to get on as neighbors? Just keep the noise down in the mornings and late at night, and try to avoid bumping into me on the stairs.”

“We were going to invite you to fajitas,” he blurts out. “Well, I was. Scott said no.”

Derek’s grin fades. “Okay, I don’t meant to sound harsh but I said get on as neighbors. I didn’t say we were going to be friends.”

Stiles can practically feel his face fall right down to the ground, maybe even through the hole he’s sitting next to. “Neighbors can have fajitas together.”

“That’s not my idea of neighbors,” Derek says, “whatever, I’m going to go shower and get all this mess off.”

“Right, okay, I-” but Derek’s already gone. Stiles replays the conversation in his head as he goes to make his own breakfast. Derek had said neighbors not friends, but at least he’d said something nice-ish. Compared to their previous encounters, despite Stiles’ plan failing, he thinks he can actually count this one as a win. 

“Oooh, did you make pancakes?” asks Scott, walking into the kitchen with a hand over one of his eyes. Just woken up, then.

“Yes, but not for you,” Stiles says, “sorry,” he adds on, because he had been planning on making some for Scott and himself but he’s run out of ingredients, which is why Stiles is munching on an apple. “There’s some bread for toast if you want some.”

Scott nods and reaches for the loaf that’s on the counter. “Hang on, if you didn’t pancakes for us then who did – not Derek?”

Stiles thinks it’s a sign of their long and fruitful friendship that Scott guesses right first time. “Yes Derek. I told you we needed to make an effort to be better neighbors.”

“Neighbors don’t usually make pancakes for one another.” Scott sticks a slice of bread in the toaster and slams the button down much harder than necessary.

“Watch – you’ll break it. And neighbors should – don’t you think the world would be a much better place if neighbors made pancakes?”

“I…think you spend way too much time thinking about things like that. But don’t change the subject. Don’t you think you’re trying a little _too_ hard with Derek?”

“That’s what he said.”

“I mean, what about the other neighbors?”

“What?” Stiles asks, “you’re worried they’ll get jealous or something?”

Scott laughs. “no. I just think you don’t even know their names.”

Stiles nods. “There’s Miss-has-the-TV-on-too-loud next door and Mr-likes-to-sing-in-the-shower upstairs.”

“Jen and Nick,” Scott says helpfully. “And the people in the apartment at the other side of us are nice too but I left it too late to ask their names without it being awkward so you’re going to have to do that.”

“I’ll make sure to do that when I bump into them, then.” Stiles leans back against the kitchen counter to watch Scott eat, because he knows it’ll be off-putting and he feels like being annoying. Scott ignores him, and Stiles grins because _this_ is why they work as friends. And then he has an idea. “ _You_ should speak to Derek.”

“Why?”

“It’ll be like a swap – I’ll find out the names you want to know, you talk to Derek.”

“Again, why?”

“Because if Derek knows we’re both good guys he might want to be friends. Maybe he’s worried if he makes friends with me he’ll have to spend time with you too. For all he knows you could be a total jerk.”

Scott scowls. “Why do you care so much about being _friends_ with him anyway? Do you like-”

“Because he said he doesn’t want to be friends,” Stiles interrupts before Scott can continue with _that_ particular line of questioning. “Which of course means I have to make sure we are. It’s like Lydia and proving to her that I’m worthy of her time.”

“You had a crush on Lydia,” Scott points out.

“That’s not the relevant information regarding Lydia,” he says, “also, duh, have you seen Derek? Who _wouldn’t_ have a crush on him.”

Scott shrugs, and then there’s a muffled crash from below followed by a curse and, oh yeah, thin building structure and a _hole in the floor_ make it easy for Derek to hear Stiles waxing lyrical about Derek.

Stiles groans.

Scott laughs.

Stiles scowls.

“There’s a hole in our floor,” says Scott.

“I’m aware of that, thank you. Okay, look, compared to everything else embarrassing I’ve done in front of Derek so far, that was nothing. Right?”

“If you want to think that, then sure, that was nothing.”

Stiles takes a moment to glare at Scott before continuing with their conversation. “Whatever, man. You got any plans for today?”

“I’m at work this afternoon. Thought I’d hang here this morning. I’m maybe seeing Allison this evening – she wants to see that new movie with the guy who does the thing in it, and I might stay over at her place.”

"You’re going to leave me home alone?” He pouts, and then winks. “You do realize you’re going to walk into a landmine of pranks when you come home, right?”

“I’d expect nothing less. Just, please, nothing long-lasting.”

“Pinkie promise.” He holds up his pinkie and everything, but Scott just shakes his head. “If you don’t shake then my promise doesn’t count.”

Scott fights a smile – Stiles enjoys watching the struggle, it’s hilarious - but can’t help it in the end, grinning and holding up his pinkie too. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Thank you – so are you. I might call Danny, see if he’s free tonight.”

Scott nods. “I like Danny.”

“ _Everyone_ likes Danny. I think it’s because compared to Jackson, who he’s always with, he can’t seem anything other than nice.”

“I wonder if people say things like that about us,” Scott says, around a mouthful of toast.

“Probably. Although I’m clearly the Danny in this relationship.”

“I’m _not_ Jackson.”

“No.” Stiles nudges Scott in the side as he walks past him. “You’re not. I’m going to go hunt for jobs on the internet. Have fun with your breakfast.”

“Okay,” Scott says.

“But not too much fun,” he throws out as he leaves the room, sniggering as Scott makes retching noises behind him.

Living with his best friend is _fun._

~~

Living with his best friend _sucks_.

Stiles _really_ didn’t want to be half-way through watching _The Incredible Hulk_ with Danny (they watch it to laugh at it, and because if they get distracted talking it doesn’t matter) and be interrupted by Scott and Allison walking in _kissing._ He got enough of seeing that in high school, and now gets it whenever they hang out as a group, without being caught unawares when Scott said he’d be out all night.

“Should have put a sock on the door,” says Danny, tapping Stiles’ foot. Stiles has his feet up on Danny’s lap because it’s Danny and he lets Stiles do things like that.

“Wouldn’t that only work if Scott and Allison had been here first?” Stiles asks, confused, because he’s pretty sure that usually goes the other way around.

Danny blinks. “Oh yeah.”

“It’s fine,” says Scott, “we’re going into my room.”

Stiles stares for a moment and then looks away from Scott and Allison. “Oh. _Oh._ I really didn’t consider this aspect of living with my best friend.”

“And that’s why I never lived with Jackson,” says Danny.

Stiles is about to reply with something about wisdom and what happens to people who don’t pass it on when he’s cut off by what is perhaps the most awful singing he’s ever heard. This time, he doesn’t even need a second to remember where it’s coming from.

The singing kicks up a notch, and Stiles fist bumps the air and shouts at Scott. “ _See_ , I told you there were worse singers in the world than me!”

The singing stops. Stiles winces.

“Fuck you, too,” Derek shouts, but Stiles is sure that’s at least five per cent of a fond tone he can hear. Even if it isn’t, Stiles is too busy reveling in the fact that, this time, he hasn’t embarrassed himself in front (on top?) of Derek. Instead, Derek is the one who should be embarrassed and, yeah, Stiles feels like gloating.

“I’m sorry, but there had to be something wrong with you when you look like that,” he jumps up off the couch and walks over to peer down through the hole, “and we’ve found it: you can’t sing.”

Derek’s sitting in his armchair, arms crossed, and he looks up at Stiles, unimpressed. “You can’t judge. I heard you when you were making those pancakes this morning, murdering whatever it was you were singing.”

Stiles scowls, and then remembers the plan he’d hatched that morning, turns and gestures at Scott. “Dude, come and meet Derek properly. You haven’t really spoken yet.”

“Who are you inflicting on me now?” Derek asks.

“Scott. You’ll like Scott. Scott’s nice.”

“Most of the time,” Danny mutters, and Stiles is glad it was quiet enough for Derek not to hear.

“Okay. Lesson number one,” Scott says, kneeling beside Stiles, “to let me talk to Derek you actually have to let _me_ talk.”

“You can get him to shut up?” Derek gasps dramatically. “See, I _do_ like you.”

“No,” says Stiles, “no way are you two going to bond over my flaws. Scott, go away.”

“No,” says Scott.

“Yes,” says Allison, “or have you forgotten who you’re meant to be spending time with right  now?”

Stiles grins in victory and looks back at Derek. “Are you literally just singing to yourself?”

“Yeah. Don’t even try and tell me you never do that.”

“Oh, I do that. I just wouldn’t have thought you would.”

Derek grins. “What, you think I spend all my days, when I’m not covered in pancake, brooding in a corner?”

Danny snorts from the couch, and Stiles turns to glare at him because he’s _not helping_.

“Are you going to sit there watching me all night?” asks Derek. “Because if that’s your plan I’m moving to another room.”

“What? No. Sorry.” Stiles frowns. “It’s weird, though, right? Like, trying to be us up here and you down there and not acknowledge each other.”

Derek nods. “It’s weird. It won’t be weird as soon as that gets fixed. Then we’ll just bump into each other when you nearly knock me down the stairs.”

Allison makes a choked noise, and then turns to Scott. “That actually happened? Stiles didn’t make it up.”

Stiles steadfastly ignores his friends, and chooses to talk to Derek instead. “Yes. Yeah, of course. Alright, well, I’ll let you get back to what you were doing and I’ll get back to doing things with Danny. I mean, hanging out with Danny. Not doing – you know what, never mind. You don’t care either way.” He’s not quite sure how to end their conversation, waves awkwardly and then says, “goodnight, then.”

It’s only when he’s back sitting on the couch next to Danny that he realizes it’s actually too early for bed and that he just had a semi-normal conversation with Derek (if semi-normal involves friendly sarcastic insults which, for Stiles and his friends, it usually does) for the first time.

~~

A week later, Stiles has actually almost gotten used to living with Scott. It’s not been that much of a change, really, considering they’ve spent most of their formative years at each other’s houses, at school together, at all of the same clubs together because Scott didn’t want Stiles making new friends at Scouts (they got thrown out after three weeks) and Stiles didn’t want Scott to get beaten up too badly playing lacrosse (as it turns out, he didn’t need to worry: neither of them made it off the bench). They’ve managed to get into a sort of routine that involves joint shopping trips, Stiles cooking while Scott cleans, and spending most of the time they’re in together on the Xbox or watching Tv.

So when Stiles returns to their apartment after another day of going around town begging for a job and then meeting Lydia for coffee, he’s secure in the knowledge that things will be in order. They are. Sort of.

He finds Scott lounging on the couch talking to himself. Except, Stiles soon realizes, he’s not talking to himself. He’s talking loud enough so that Derek, in the apartment below can hear him.

“And then Stiles threw himself out of the boat,” Scott says, grinning.

Stiles frowns, because he knows that story and now Derek knows that story and, yeah, Derek’s definitely laughing below them.

“I can believe that,” Derek shouts up, when he finally stops laughing.

“Well don’t,” Stiles says, making Scott jump. “If Scott told you Elvis lived next door would you believe him?”

“Is it true?” Derek asks, voice only slightly muffled.

Stiles clears his throat. “I was thirteen – what else was I supposed to do?”

Scott shrugs. “Maybe-”

“It’s a bit late for suggestions now,” he cuts Scott off. “How long have you two been sitting making fun of me?”

“Only a little while,” says Scott.

“About half an hour,” says Derek. “We just got talking.”

Stiles turns to glare at Scott, and then remembers he’s been pushing Scott to talk to Derek for a week and it’d be hypocritical to complain now. Instead, he groans. Loudly and dramatically.

“It’s not that bad,” says Scott.

“It really is,” says Derek, “but I’m guessing you have dozens of similar stories about Scott so you’ll get him back at some point.”

“By telling them to you?”

“By telling them to someone. Maybe me,” Derek allows, “maybe not. But look, now the two of you are here together – any idea when that hole’s getting fixed?”

“Um,” Scott says helpfully.

Stiles bites his lip and then hopes Derek isn’t a good lie-detector. “The guy we called can’t come out until Monday. But he’s really cheap. And good.”

“He hasn’t been able to come out for over a week?” Derek doesn’t sound convinced.

“His wife just gave birth.” Stiles shrugs at Scott – it’s not _his_ fault they hadn’t thought to come up with a decent cover story. Or found another way to get the money to repair it. So maybe he hasn’t been putting a lot of thought into that, but if the hole gets fixed, his face time (as such) with Derek gets cut massively and it makes his aim of making friends (okay, maybe more) with Derek so much harder.

“And we couldn’t get the money together until Tuesday, anyway,” Scott adds, sticking his thumbs up at Stiles.

There’s a second’s pause before Derek answers. “Right, okay.”

“Maybe you can help Stiles,” Scott suggests suddenly, “he’s looking for a job – do you know of anywhere that’s hiring?”

They both wait for an answer for a long moment, but there’s only silence. Cautiously, Stiles creeps forward and looks down through the hole. Derek’s living area is really nice – a modern black and white color scheme with splashes of red, an old jukebox in the corner of the room, plenty of space.

Derek’s living area is also empty.

“Dude, he just left without saying goodbye,” says Stiles, and then he raises his voice, “do you think he actually _left_ left or is he in one of the other rooms. Maybe the bathroom.”

There’s still no answer.

“I think he left,” Scott replies.

“Ru-ude.” He drags out the word as he stands back up.

“Yeah, but at least he seemed to enjoy the conversation this time. How was Lydia?”

“Good. She’s talking about heading back to college early to get a head start on reading, though.”

“Which means Jackson’ll be leaving early, too,” says Scott.

“Yeah, but I think she said they were thinking of asking Danny to come stay for a few days, so he’ll have company.” He pauses for a moment, and then throws a cushion at Scott. “You thinking about applying next year?”

Scott shrugs. “Maybe. Now I know Mom’s okay when I’m not living there.”

“Yeah. I was kind of thinking it might be time to apply to the Academy, maybe save up as much money as I can this year and then take the plunge.”

“Have you told your dad yet?”

“What? That I’ve known what I want my career to be since I was fourteen but haven’t told him because it’s the _one_ thing he didn’t want me to do?” Stiles snorts. “No, I haven’t told him yet.”

“You’re going to have to at some point.”

“I know.” He’s been putting it off for years, put off actually going because he wasn’t ready to disappoint his dad, but there’s only so long he can wait. 

“Well then,” says Scott, “we need to make the most of the rest of this year if we’re both going to be off doing different things after that.”

“ _Please_ ,” Stiles says, “like we won’t see a lot of each other even when we’re at different places.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah.” He grins. “I do. And we will. Just, not always expensive ways of making the most of the year – deal?” 

 _“_ Deal.”

~~

Stiles should have known things were too good to be true. Maybe he and Derek had had a few semi-normal conversations through their hole in the floor recently (albeit aided by Scott), but he’s anticipated positive results too soon. When he casually glances into the downstairs apartment to see someone other than Derek there, he feels stupid.

The person-who-isn’t-Derek has a mop of curls and is wearing next-to-nothing, wandering around in his boxers as though he has every right to be there.

Stiles doesn’t like him. And then he realizes how ridiculous that is. He doesn’t know the guy, clearly has no chance with Derek no matter if Derek is single or taken, and shouldn’t be so quick to judge someone who might be perfectly nice. Yes, he resolves, he’s going to be civil to curly if he ever bumps into him in the corridor or accidentally makes eye contact through the hole.

Forcing himself to do something other than dwell on the situation, Stiles goes into the kitchen where the dishes are piling up. It’s technically Scott’s turn according to the chore rota Melissa had insisted upon but Stiles thinks they’re good enough friends where turns are pretty much interchangeable anyway.

Washing dishes, if boring, is quite therapeutic, he’s always found. Sometimes, when he was very young and having a tantrum, his mom used to distract him with chores that would calm him down, which probably has something to do with it. He can still picture the way she used to dance with the broom.

Emptying out the dirty water, he turns as Scott walks into the room. “I got knocked back for three different jobs today,” he says.

“Three? Including the job your dad’s friend was hiring for?”

“Apparently dad’s friend remembers me as the clumsy kid who managed to throw his daughter’s bike into a ravine – which isn’t exactly conducive to a job that requires handling glass.”

“Maybe the bar will get back to you.”

“Also one of the three that turned me down.” He moves aside to let Scott get to the tap for some water. “Harry said I can have another couple hours on a Saturday but that’s all he can manage because he has too many people on his staff as it is.”

“Bad luck, man,” says Scott, “I saw Derek in the hallway by the way – he asked about the repairs again.”

“Right. I guess there’s only so long we can put it off.” Stiles pulls a face. “I’ll ask my dad for a loan – tell him it’s for my jeep or something.”

“I can ask Deaton for an advance – he’s pretty good with that stuff.”

“Yeah. Rub your wonderful job in my face.” He sticks out his tongue, just because he can.

“Did Lydia and Jackson get away okay?”

Stiles nods. “Danny didn’t go, though – his dad’s renovating his old room and Danny’s going to help out.”  

“I can’t believe she wanted to go back to college two weeks early.”

“Well, hey, if you want to win a Field’s medal, that’s what you have to do.” It’s only after he speaks that he realizes he sounded defensive.

“Everything okay?” Scott asks.

“Course it is.”

“Really?”

“ _Yes._ ”

Scott sighs. “What happened?”

“Derek’s got a boyfriend. A curly-haired, very toned boyfriend.”

“I thought you didn’t want to get to know him _that way_?” Scott sounds smug. Too smug.

“ _Please._ I compared him to Lydia – what sort of a best friend are you?”

“How’d you know, anyway?”

“I saw him. Through our hole. Mine and Derek’s hole. Which now has no significance whatsoever and is just a hole.” Stiles pushes himself up so he’s sitting on the kitchen counter, even though he knows Scott hates it. Scott hates it because Melissa hates it and he’s been raised with that particular rule. Stiles, though, Stiles used to sit on the counter and lick cake mix out of a bowl while his mom baked. Stiles is a kitchen-counter-sitting _master._

“I’m hurt,” says Scott, “that hole is _ours_. We made it.”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I really don’t. I don’t want to, either. I don’t want to think about any hole you and Derek might-”

“ _Stop._ Stop right there with that joke. Ew.” 

“Sorry.” Scott does actually look a little apologetic as he reaches out to pat Stiles on the knee. “But, hey, Derek and his boyfriend might break up some day.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because if you say that, I’m going to hope for that, and then I’m going to feel mean for wishing for a couple that might be perfectly happy together to break up.”

“Derek’s never mentioned him,” Scott points out.

“Derek’s never mentioned _anything._ He doesn’t like me enough to even tell me his favorite colour.”

“You asked him his favorite colour?”

“It was three am. There wasn’t much else to talk about.”

 “And he refused to tell you?”

“He did.”

“Yeah, man,” says Scott, “I don’t think you ever stood a chance.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

~~

Stiles stops pining over Derek. Mostly. He still glances at the hole on occasion, still chimes in when Scott is explaining to Derek about why Captain America is better than Iron Man (because that’s a debate he just can’t stay out of), still catches himself wondering whether Derek prefers strawberry or chocolate ice cream. But he doesn’t actively go out of his way to talk to Derek, or to bump into Derek in the hallway (which, upon reflection, he realizes might have come across as creepy.)

Instead of pining over Derek, he throws all his energy into looking for a job which might provide some useful experience for policing, and spends any spare time he has alone researching into the application process for the Academy. After a few subtle attempts at getting information from his dad - one of which ends in his dad openly asking Stiles if he robbed a bank – he goes to another source instead: the internet. The internet scares him because it’s full of testimonials about how only the strongest make it through police training, how the Academy is only for people who are one hundred per cent committed to their career choice.

And then he finds an article about the physical condition recruits need to be in.

And then he panics.

It’s not as though he’s unfit – he did actually train quite hard for lacrosse even though his clumsy hand-eye co-ordination phase in high school had meant he couldn’t play, and he still runs on quite a regular basis. On the Wii Fit. It counts. He’s just… a little out of practice when it comes to maintaining a daily training routine.

So, after writing a list of all the things he needs to be doing in preparation for applying, Stiles searches for a cheap gym in the area. He finds one listed that’s just around the block and contemplates heading over right there and then, but then Scott gets home from working his shift at the veterinary practice.

“Dude, good news. One of the high school kids who sometimes helps out has moved away so I talked to Deaton and he said if you want them, you can have the shifts. If you have those _and_ the restaurant shifts, that should help, right?”

“Remember when I said us working together _and_ living together wasn’t a good idea?”

“Yeah,” Scott replies, wincing.

“Forget it. I’m getting pretty desperate, Deaton’s a nice boss, and that’s _awesome_.”

Scott grins. “That’s what I told him. You start tomorrow.”

“You accepted the job offer for me?”

“Hey, you’re _desperate_ , remember?” Scott flops down on the couch beside him screen. “So what are you doing?” he glances at Stiles’ laptop. “Are you looking at gyms? Why are _you_ looking at gyms?”

Offended, Stiles closes the internet tab, wincing when the next tab that shows up is a slightly embarrassing Google search about getting to know your neighbors. “I told you already, the Academy is looming ever near. I need to get fit. Fit _ter._ ”

“Right. That actually makes sense.”

“I know it does,” he says, “what time do I start tomorrow?”

“Seven. Sorry, you’re newest so you drew the early shift – you’ll probably be able to swap in a few weeks.”

Stiles shrugs. He actually quite likes early mornings, and he’s used to not getting a lot of sleep from his teenage years when his insomnia (which still affects him during more stressful periods) was more intense. Besides, the early shift at the vets means his new job won’t be affecting his other job so that’s one less headache for him.

“Seriously, though, you’re going to go to the gym?” asks Scott. “I thought we were saving money?”

“I am – I looked for the cheapest one I could find, and it’s _cheap_. It’s probably going to be an absolute dive. But, hey, I think we should call for someone to repair the hole now.” Bad luck on Stiles’ part had meant the loan he’d had to ask his dad for _had_ been for repairs on his jeep.

“Why?”

“Because we’ll be able to afford it now I have two jobs, and because Derek’s patience won’t last forever.” Still, it’s going to be a shame for the era to end.

“It had to happen at some point,” Scott says.

“Yeah, I guess. It’s only fair anyway, we can’t keep lying to the guy forever and if we keep it like that much longer someone’s going to forget and fall through it.”

“Probably you.”

“Probably me,” Stiles agrees. He’s already come close a couple of times, once during a conversation with Derek which was a little awkward, and once coming back from a night out with Danny, which was less awkward because at least he had the excuse of being slightly not-sober.

There’s a firm knock at the door, and Stiles all but jumps off the coach. “It’s him.”

“What?”

“I bet it’s Derek – that knock was forceful. He’s probably there to, I don’t know, and he’s maybe brought the landlord.”

Scott raises an eyebrow, but gets up to go and peer through the peephole. And then he turns and hisses at Stiles. “It’s your dad. Stiles, it’s your dad. And my mom. My mom’s there, too.”

“Crap.” Stiles looks over at the hole and, yes, it’s still there. “Um, we need something to cover it. A rug or-”

“There isn’t time.” Scott shakes his head. “Look, we say it’s a recent thing and-”

There’s another knock. “Okay,” Stiles says, “a recent thing. We’re good.”

Scott takes a deep breath and opens the door. “Mom, Mr. Stilinski, hi.”

“Scott,” Stiles’ dad says, walking inside and looking around, “so, you two haven’t burnt the place down.”

“What?” Stiles asks, shifting slightly so he’s standing in the way of the hole being seen.

“He’s being funny,” says Melissa, “because you two have been so cagey about when we could visit again. But look, everything’s fine.”

“Um,” he says.

“Almost,” says Scott.

Melissa sighs. “What do we need to know?”

Biting his lip, Stiles takes a step to the side, and then another one. “We kind of broke the floor a little bit.”

“How did this happen?” asks his dad, moving further into the apartment to inspect the damage.

“The floors are old-” Stiles starts.

“We don’t know-” Scott says at the same time.

“I don’t think we want to know,” says Melissa, “just tell me you’re getting it fixed.”

“We were actually just about to call a repairman.”

“Hmmm,” his dad says, “let me call someone – I know a guy. You two are paying, though.”

“Duh, we’re twenty, Dad. Of course we’re paying.”

Stiles and Scott share relieved looks as Stiles’ dad makes the call. They’re getting the hole fixed, they managed to get through their parents finding out with no _I told you sos_ about them living together – they’re good.

“Okay,” his dad says, hanging up, “he has a job on that’ll take him a few days to finish up and then he’ll come by and get it done for you. I gave him your email address, Stiles – he’s going to send through a rough estimate.”

“Sounds good.”

“It does,” Melissa says, peering through the hole and then looking back up at them, whispering, “there’s a _very_ attractive guy down there.”

“That’s Derek,” says Scott.

“Oooh, I like his curls.”

“Derek’s boyfriend,” Stiles corrects morosely. “We don’t know his name.”

“It’s Isaac,” Scott says, glancing at Stiles. “I met him super-quickly on the stairs on Monday – didn’t I tell you?”

“Obviously not.”

Stiles’ dad clears his throat. “Right, well. We came by – Melissa thought you two might want to come out to dinner with us. Something nice and filling.”

“Mom,” Scott whines, “we have been eating, you know. Stiles cooks.”

“Is there any harm in us wanting to take you out for a meal?” she asks, glancing warily at Stiles. Yeah, looks like she definitely doesn’t trust his cooking.

“Nope,” says Stiles. He likes cooking, but cooking every meal gets a bit tiresome after a while, and maybe he can swing it so he gets to choose where they go.

“Come on, then – we haven’t booked a table so we don’t want to be late getting there and miss out.”

Grabbing his jacket, Stiles follows everyone out of the door, grinning. Maybe he isn’t Derek’s boyfriend, but he has awesome people in his life and he’s about to get food. He’s got what he needs.

~~

Stiles definitely has what he needs as he sits in his favorite restaurant (which just so happens to be Scott’s favorite place, too, which means their parents didn’t even consider eating anywhere else), eating his favorite dish from the menu.

“So how was Lydia?” his dad asks. “She’s just been back in town, right?”

“Yeah.” Stiles nods. “She was good, really good. Gone back to college now, though.”

“Good for her,” says Melissa, and there’s a moment of awkward tension until she continues, “does she get home often?”

“No,” Scott jumps in. “Hardly ever. Her parents really miss her.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, “of _course_ they do.”

Either nobody catches the sarcasm in his voice, or they all choose to ignore it, because the conversation moves on.

“How’s the job search going, Stiles?”

“Great,” he says, “I’m starting work at the vets with Deaton tomorrow.”

“You two are working at the same place now as well?” asks Melissa, eyeing Scott. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“It’s fine, Mom,” says Scott.“I mean, we used to go to school together _and_ practically lived with each other, then.  And both of us are less teenage boy moody now. We’ll be fine. Besides, it’s only temporary – next year we’ll be…” he trails off way too late.

“You’ll be what?” asks Stiles’ dad.

“Scott will be at college,” Stiles says, before Scott can say anything else to drop him in it 

(dropping Scott in it is fair game, he figures).

“And Stiles will be at the Academy,” Scott adds on, smirking like he knows exactly what Stiles was trying to do.

“The Academy,” his dad repeats. “Stiles, could I talk to you outside for a moment?”

Shooting a glare at Scott, he scrapes his chair back pointedly and walks outside, his dad at his back. There’s a moment of silence where they stare at each other, and then his dad breaks it.

“You’ve applied to the Academy?”

“Not yet. Applications don’t have to be in until later this-”

“ _Stiles._ You promised.”

“That the one thing I’d never do is become a cop, I know. But it’s what I want to do, Dad.”

“It’s dangerous, Stiles.”

“It didn’t stop you.”

“But you’re-”

“What? Weak? Not brave enough? What?”

“My son,” his dad says, visibly deflating. “You’re my _son._ ”

Oh. That kind of takes the wind out of Stiles’ sails, so to speak, and he sags against the wall. “And you’re my _dad_. I don’t want to fall out with you over this – I want you to be proud.”

His dad shakes his head. “I am proud of you, Stiles. I’m proud of you plenty without you needing to become a cop.”

“I’m not doing it because it’s what you do, though. I’m doing it because it’s what I want to do, too. I grew up seeing you help so many people, Dad, and I want to do that too. And I’m good at it – you know I am; I’ve helped you work through things plenty of times.”

“Yeah, Stiles, I know you’d be a good cop. Hell, you’d make a _great_ cop. I just didn’t want that life for you.”

“Dad, I’ve been living _that life_ anyway worrying about you. And I’m not saying that to make you feel guilty – I’m saying that to make you understand: _I understand._ I understand why you’re a cop and why you had to carry on being a cop even when you had a family.”

“Stiles-”

“I really want you to understand too. Please.”

His dad sighs. “I do. I do understand. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I will.” He reaches out and nudges his dad. The last thing Stiles wants to do is hurt him by following in his footsteps. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you until now – I didn’t want to upset you.”

“Is that why you’ve been putting off doing anything?” his dad asks.

“Maybe. Yeah. To be honest, I wasn’t ready when I first left school. I’d, I don’t know, hadn’t lived enough.”

“And that? That’s why you’re going to make a brilliant officer. Come on, let’s go see how the McCalls are doing with their to-college or not-to-college debate.”

Stiles follows his dad back inside, feeling a whole lot lighter.

~~

“I can’t believe you told my mom,” Scott says, giving Stiles a gentle shove as they make their way back into their apartment building. It’s late, so Stiles keeps his voice down as he replies.

“I can’t believe you told my dad.”

Scott shrugs. “Fair enough. I _really_ can’t believe they were that cool about the hole.”

“Maybe all they needed to stop treating us like teenagers was for us to stop acting like teenagers.”

“That’s a wise statement.”

Stiles jumps, and turns to see Derek walking into the building behind them.

“Do I want to know what said statement is about?” Derek continues, grinning easily (Stiles thinks if that grin is what having his boyfriend around does to Derek, maybe he can downgrade his hate for Curly into a mere dislike).

“Just family stuff,” Stiles says, “speaking of stuff. I have stuff to do. Upstairs.” He retreats back up to their apartment before either Derek or Scott can continue the conversation further. He’s had enough awkward talks for one night.

Stiles is already in his bedroom when he hears Scott come into the apartment, and a few seconds later his door opens and Scott leans casually in the doorway.

“Heard of knocking?” Stiles asks.

Scott snorts. “Heard of manners? Of not leaving your best friend in awkward conversations?”

“What best friend?”

“Jerk.”

“Dork.”

Scott grins at him. “Derek said to say hi, seeing as you didn’t stop around long enough to hear it personally.”

“Okay – now get out of my room.”

“Nope.” Scott throws himself down on top of Stiles’ bed. “Don’t want to.”

“Petulance doesn’t suit you, Scott.”

“And running away doesn’t suit you – it’s not your usual style.”

“I made a strategic retreat, okay? What does it matter? It’s not like Derek and I are friends.”

“Whatever, man. Want to watch a movie or something?”

“Duh. New job, early start tomorrow – any of that ring a bell?”

“Oh right.” Scott sits up on the bed, and then stands. “I guess I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Thanks.”

“No worries, good luck tomorrow. And don’t stress if you mess up – I made so many mistakes on my first day.”

“Is that meant to be reassuring?” he shouts after Scott as his friend leaves, closing the door behind him.  

~~

Stiles isn’t altogether surprised when his first shift at Deaton’s goes well (better than Scott’s first shift did, anyway) because he’s hung out there so often talking to Scott that he has a fair idea of what his duties are, and of how to impress Deaton. Granted, Deaton only has him on light duties but Stiles thinks he’s going to do just fine working there for a couple of months. He finishes just before lunch, and decides he’s going to make his day ultra-productive and go to the gym he found.

In his apartment to pick up some workout clothes, he can’t resist checking to see if there’s any activity going on downstairs; his dad’s friend is coming to fix the hole soon – he figures there’s no harm in looking one last time.

There’s no-one there, and he’s kind of glad because he’s serious about the whole not letting himself obsess over Derek thing, and that includes trying to draw conclusions about Derek’s curly-haired boyfriend. Once the damage to the floor is fixed, he can forget about the whole incident and focus all his energy on getting into the Academy and everything else that entails. 

“What are you doing?”

Stiles jumps at the sound of Scott’s voice, and moves back away from the hole. “Saying goodbye. What are _you_ doing? I thought you were meeting Allison for lunch.”

“She had to cancel and help her dad with a meeting.”

“Right. Allison and the family business. Of course.” Stiles pats Scott’s shoulder in something he hopes amounts to sympathy. “Lunch is a staple of the day, right? So you can do it tomorrow or whenever.”

“I know,” Scott says, “I’m fine, dude. Are you projecting your sadness onto me?”

“Quite probably. Look, I was going to head to the gym but we can go for lunch instead if you want?”

“We could make some here? It’ll be cheaper.”

Stiles nods, promising himself he’ll get to the gym at some point that week.

“Oh hey,” says Scott, “how was your first shift?”

“I think I’m going to replace you as Deaton’s favorite.”

“Really?”

“Sure – why wouldn’t I? I have charm, intelligence, an-”

“Ego.”

Stiles laughs. “What more could someone want?”

~~

So, in high school Stiles learned one big thing about his relationship to sports: he liked being on teams, and taking part in games when he could, he _didn’t_ like all of the training and sweat and tears (literally, once, when coach had benched him with some particularly brutal words) that went into getting to that point. The same, he quickly realizes, goes for getting himself fit enough to be eligible for the Academy. He knows he’s going to love being a cop but, as he puts himself through a world of pain on the rowing machine at the gym, he really _hates_ the preparation. It doesn’t help that he’s somehow managed to pick a busy time of the day and he’s surrounded by people who are quite clearly gym regulars, used to operating the gear and _not_ getting out of breath in the first two minutes of their work-out.

He forces himself to keep going, though, pretending that the regulars who are giving him odd looks are the perps he’s going undercover to take down, and by the end of his first session he’s managing to move around the room as though he’s almost supposed to be there. Which is more than he ever managed in high school, up until the point where Jackson stopped being quite so much of a jerk and accepted that Lydia wanted to be friends with Allison, which meant an association with Scott, and as an extension of that, Stiles. 

Stiles is in the locker room, newly changed into some clean clothes and about to leave when he hears a voice he recognizes. Usually, he’s not so good with voices, but days of listening to this one through a hole in the floor means he’s quite attuned to what Derek sounds like.

Stupidly, he glances around the room as if there’s going to be somewhere to hide, and by the time he’s convinced himself there isn’t, the door’s opening and Derek’s walking inside, quickly followed by Isaac. There’s nothing for it, Stiles thinks, but to get out of there as quickly as possible, and he mumbles a quick greeting, gives a little wave, grabs his bag, and flees.

Outside, away from the locker room which had made him feel fifteen again, Stiles pulls out his cell phone and sends off a quick text to Scott, warning him that his roommate might never be showing his face _ever_ again. And then he starts walking.

He ends up at home. Not the apartment, but his dad’s place, which is still his first home as far as he’s concerned. His dad isn’t in, but Stiles lets himself inside and makes some lunch as he contemplates the fact that, despite his intentions not to care one way or another about Derek anymore, he’s still reacting whenever Derek is near, which kind of means his intentions aren’t leading to positive results.

Scott replies to the text as Stiles is finishing off his sandwich, and isn’t altogether sympathetic to Stiles’ plight. Stiles can’t really blame him, though, because he remembers getting sick of Scott pining after Allison in high school and he’s probably been at least three times worse over the last couple of weeks. Also, Scott’s actually on a date with Allison so it was probably a bit much to expect him to be on hand to help with another of his day-to-day crises. 

“Are you eating me out of house and home?” his dad asks, walking into the kitchen.

“Something like that,” he says, grinning.

“How are you?”

“Fine, I’m fine.”

“That’s good,” says his dad, sliding into the chair opposite him. “So how come you look like someone’s kicked your dog?”

“I don’t have a dog.”

“Okay, like someone’s kicked Scott.”

“Nothing. I’m just – I’m just tired. I went to the gym.”

“You did?”

“No need to sound quite so surprised. Oh, also, I had my first shift with Deaton the other day – that was cool.”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“I know I am,” grinning, he goes to the freezer and pulls out a tub of ice-cream. “I want to change the subject. Want a spoon too?”

His dad nods. “Clearly whatever it is you don’t want to talk about it so I’m just going to remind you that I’m here if you do and we can talk about something else.”

Stiles nods, and sets the ice-cream down on the table. His dad is awesome.

~~

“Deaton says I’m still his favorite,” Scott says, with a smug grin as he walks through the door.

Stiles turns from the game of cards he’s playing and raises his eyebrows. “He actually said that?”

“Well, he implied it.”

“That’s so not the same thing.” Stiles stands up when there’s a knock at the door. “That’s just you reading things into what he’s saying because you want to.”

“You’re mean.”

Stiles flips Scott the bird over his shoulder as he pulls the door open, only to come face to face with Isaac.

“Hi,” evil boyfriend (ooops, apparently Stiles has already given him a nickname) says, “I’m Isaac – from downstairs. We sort of saw each other at the gym? I just wanted to come by and say, well, hi.”

“Right, I-”

“Especially because, you know, we sort of have crossovers of personal space with the hole. It’s a bit weird, right? Having it there kind of feels like you’re constantly being watched.”

“I haven’t been watching you,” Stiles blurts out. “I mean, that would be creepy.”

“Sure,” Isaac says, “anyway, that’s all I really wanted. To, you know, be friendly and say hey because I bet Derek wasn’t the friendliest person ever when you moved in. You’re Stiles, right? Derek described you to me.”

“Yeah, I’m Stiles. And Derek’s welcome wasn’t so bad considering we broke his apartment.”

Isaac seems to smirk for a moment, and then he nods. “Come to think of it, he didn’t sound as grumpy as he usually would about the situation when he told me about it.”

“Huh.” Stiles shrugs. “So, how long have you two been dating?”

“What?” Isaac splutters, face screwing up (and still, Stiles notices, managing to look attractive). “No, Derek and I aren’t – dating? We’re cousins. I’m just staying with him until my new lease begins.”

“Oh.”

“You thought we were dating?”

Stiles grimaces. “Derek told you I’m an idiot, right?”

“Well,” Isaac says, grinning, “Derek told me lots of things. Hey, look – I’ve got to take off but it was nice to meet you, Stiles.”

“Sure. See you, Isaac.” Stiles says, suddenly feeling a lot friendlier towards Isaac.

“Well, that was strange,” Stiles says once he’s closed the door. “What made me think they were dating again?”

Scott laughs. “Okay. I’m going to choose not to point out the obvious and tell you that a crush and jealousy played a big factor. Oh, wait, I just did.”

“That’s… probably fair.” Stiles doesn’t bother sitting back down. “Okay, man, I’m going to go get ready and then actually head to the gym like I was going to yesterday. Operation Become an Officer of the Law won’t wait forever.”

“You’ve given it a name?”

“Course I have. I give everything and everybody a name.”

“Who am I?”

“You? You’re Scott. Just Scott.”

He leaves Scott trying to work out whether the lack of a nickname is a good thing or a bad thing, and congratulates himself on his evil genius like tendencies once again.

~~

The next day, Stiles calls his dad’s friend and tells him not to come and fix the floor. Derek’s single, after all – he figures there’s no harm in continuing to pine from afar. Or from above.

~~

The second time Stiles goes to the gym (once he’s talked himself into it by working out the likelihood of Derek being there a second time using a trick Lydia had taught him), he gets as far as walking through the door and three steps inside before spotted Derek over by the weights. So much for Lydia’s trick.

He considers turning right around and leaving again but then Derek waves and there’s only so much avoiding he can do without appearing to be a total dick, so he gives a quick wave back and goes to stick his bag in a locker.

He can do this, he decides. He can manage to not embarrass himself and most definitely not do anything stupid, especially now that he knows Isaac isn’t _evil boyfriend_ but actually _friendly cousin_. He thinks.

Last time at the gym, he’d started off running and finished rowing, but the rowing machines are furthest away from the weights, and so he heads there first. The gym’s much quieter than the last time he was in; he kind of wishes it wasn’t because then it might be easier to avoid thinking about the fact Derek’s there, just across the room, working out.

Yeah, not thinking about that won’t be easy.

Stiles throws himself into his workout, and has actually mostly managed to forget Derek’s presence by the time he hits the treadmill, which of course is when Derek decides to initiate a conversation between the two of them for only the second time since they’ve met.

“I didn’t know you went here,” he says, leaning up against the wall near the treadmills. “Well, not until I saw you here the other day.”

“Yeah,” he pants out, “it’s a new development.”

“Right.”

He keeps running for another minute, and then slams the button to stop the machine. “Seriously? You’re just going to stand there watching while I do this?”

“Why not? You’ve seen a whole lot of me since you moved in above.”

He snorts. “That’s different. You’re standing watching me workout. Something which, by the way, I’m not exactly feeling totally secure about anyway and you’re putting me off big time. You’re-”

“Sorry,” Derek says. “I didn’t realize.”

Ooops. He hadn’t meant to be quite that blunt. Or honest about his work-out anxiety. “I mean, it’s not like I’m _insecure_ , per se. I’m just a-”

“It’s okay, Stiles. I get it. I’ll see you around.”

Stiles watches as Derek walks away, and has to bite his lip to stop himself from shouting him back. That’d be counterproductive. He thinks.

~~

“I don’t think you’re listening to me properly,” Danny says.

Stiles glances up from where he’s staring at the table and takes a sip of his coffee before replying. “Of course I am.”

“You just agreed to go skinny dipping.”

“What? Really?”

Danny shakes his head. “No, but point made. I’m going to the restroom, try and actually be here when I get back? Dork.”

He watches Danny walk away, and is glad it’s Danny he’s at coffee with because he knows Danny doesn’t really mind his absentmindedness. They’re at the point in their friendship where sometimes they just hang out in the same room without ever actually saying a word. He’s not meaning to ignore Danny, he just can’t stop thinking about the application form that’s waiting for him at home. It’s ages until the deadline, but he wanted to start thinking about it early because this is a big deal – it’s his future.

“What’s on your mind?” asks Danny, sliding back into his seat. “Is it Derek?”

“Nope,” he says in answer to that question, for what is possibly the first time since he and Scott moved in. “Although now it is. No, I’m actually thinking about the Academy. I picked up an application form yesterday.”

Danny whistles. “You’re definitely going ahead then?”

“As long as they’ll have me.”

“They will – you’re going to be awesome, Stiles.”

“ _You’re_ awesome,” he says, grinning. “Sorry I’ve been daydreaming. What’s up with you?”

“Not much. I’ve just been, you know, doubling up as Jackson’s relationship counsellor.”

“Yeah. Knowing what Jackson can be like even on a good day, that cannot be fun. You think they’re going to be okay?”

“Probably,” says Danny, “they’ve gotten through bad times before. They’re just stressed, and I think Jackson was a bit disappointed they didn’t stay in town longer over break.”

“Aww, he misses you.”

“Of course he does.” Danny laughs. “Who wouldn’t?”

“I will.”

“ _Please_. I know you – you’ll probably drive home every weekend to check your dad isn’t tucking into burgers constantly.”

“What can I say? I like to nag.”

“You can say that again.” Scott drops down into the seat next to Stiles. “Hey.”

“You’re not meant to be here,” says Stiles.

“I can go if you want?” Scott looks amused.

“No, I just meant – you know what I meant.”

“I don’t,” Danny says.

Scott picks up Stiles’ coffee and takes a drink before replying to Danny. “I’m meant to be at work. _But_ someone wanted to swap shifts so I said I’d do it and-”

“So you thought you’d crash our coffee,” Stiles finishes, smirking.

“Do you mind?”

Danny shakes his head. “We don’t. So, come one, now you’re both here – what’s the latest in the Derek saga?”

“Isaac’s his cousin, not his boyfriend. But I still don’t stand a chance because, well, Derek’s seen me at the gym now – there’s no way he can be into me.” Stiles stares at the table again as Danny looks at him, and then Danny proves just why he’s a good friend.

“Enough of that – I want to talk about what happened with Greenberg last week.”

“What happened with Greenberg?”

“Well, he ran into Coach and…”

~~

There’s a loud knocking at the front door. Stiles ignores it and burrows further into his nice, warm, comfortable bed –he was up late working at the restaurant the night before, and then he’d had an early shift at the vets; he’s too tired to deal with human interaction. The knocking continues, and Stiles frowns when his bedroom door opens and allows light in.

“How about I get it, then.” Scott says, throwing a cushion at Stiles. Stiles grabs it and adds it to his cushion pile.

“Sure,” he says, “and if it’s for me – I’m not in. Or I’m ill in bed. Something that means I don’t have to interact. Shut the door, yeah?”

Scott shuts the door a little too hard, and Stiles winces, but at least he doesn’t have to answer the door. He can hear the murmur of voices, and it’s doing a pretty good job of lulling him back to sleep until it stops, and then his door opens. Again.

Taking no notice of the fact Stiles wants to sleep, Scott walks right into his room and sits on the end of his bed, looking at him oddly. Stiles tries to wait him out, he really does, but then he panics because what if someone’s hurt or something?

“Okay, tell me.”

Scott nods. “That was Derek and he…”

“He what? He’s secretly a millionaire? A jewel thief? Oooh, a werewolf?”

“He wanted to know if _you_ were okay. Like, _you_ specifically.”

Stiles sits up a little. “He what?”

“I know, right? Said he hasn’t seen you around much recently and you’ve been odder than usual when he has seen you, and he was wondering if you’d had bad news or something.”

“Oh wow.”

“And that’s not all,” Scott continues. “He said _anything I can do to help._ As in _anything._ Dude, I think he thinks you’re seriously upset about something.”

“Hang on, that almost sounds like he cares.”

“Maybe he does.” Scott grins at him. “Either way, you’ve obviously been acting different enough for him to notice. Mostly while you thought Isaac was boyfriend-Isaac, I guess, but still.”

“Well, now I feel bad. What did you tell him?”

“Just that you’d been busy since you took on an extra job and it was making you tired and a little cranky, plus you’re worrying about an application which is adding to the crankiness.”

“That’s probably a fair assessment anyway if we’re being honest.”

“Yeah. Anyway, I’ll leave you to it. To sleep or think or whatever.”

Stiles doesn’t manage to get back to sleep. He’s too busy thinking about why Derek felt the need to stop by and check up on him, whether he was being neighborly, or double-checking to make sure Stiles was out of his life, or whether there was some other reason entirely.

Launching himself out of his bed, Stiles runs to his bedroom door and pulls it open, gesturing wildly at Scott.

“What?” Scott asks, rolling his eyes.

“Get in here now – I need to talk to you.”

“So talk.”

Stiles points at the hole. “I can’t.”

Scott sighs dramatically as he walks into Stiles’ room, but does close the door behind himself. “Okay, what?”

“Do you think Derek might like me?” Stiles holds up a hand. “Wait before you answer and just listen. Right. Isaac said he’d talked about me a lot, right? And Derek went from being indifferent-slash-grumpy to pretty friendly. And then he checked up on me when he thought something was wrong.”

“Stiles-”

“And I know you’re going to tell me not to get my hopes up again but, come on, the evidence is there. Besides, hope is – never mind, that’s not relevant right now. He might like me, right?”

Scott shrugs.

There’s only one thing for it, then: he needs to talk to Derek.

First, he needs to work out exactly what he’s going to say. Stiles isn’t looking forward to that part.

~~

Stiles stays up all night talking to Lydia over the phone because Scott’s great but sometimes a conversation with Lydia is needed for big life moments. Plus, she’s a little more receptive to the idea that Derek might _like_ him than Scott, which boosts Stiles’ ego a little. So he’s a little bleary eyed when he emerges from his room ready to _casually_ have a conversation with Derek through the hole, with the safety of a physical barrier between them in case Derek wants to hit him.

He’s about to lean down next to the hole and make himself known when he realizes Derek’s standing directly underneath it already talking to someone, which seems kind of an awkward time to start the conversation, so he hangs back to wait until it falls silent. Except, well, when there’s no television on and Scott’s not in the apartment it’s kind of hard to tune out conversations from below. Which is how he hears the words _clumsy_ and _socially awkward_ and _who would want to go out with someone like that?_

Yeah, Stiles isn’t going to talk to Derek. In fact, he doesn’t think he can talk to Derek ever again if that’s how the guy actually sees him; he dreads to think what exactly Derek’s been telling Isaac about him.

There is something Stiles still has to do, though. He picks up the phone and dials.

~~

The next day, Stiles wakes up to the sound of voices. His next shift at the vets isn’t until the following morning, so he’s going to make the most of the time he has to sleep and mope around. One of the voices is definitely Scott’s, the other sounds older and gruffer, and it takes Stiles a moment to realize that’s probably his dad’s friend and he should probably go and say hello. It takes him several more moments to actually wake up enough to get out of bed and pull on a t-shirt to go with the sweats he’s already wearing.

He doesn’t recognize the guy who is kneeling on their floor, but the guy – Eddie, his dad had said – clearly recognizes him.

“Stiles,” Eddie says, “it’s been a while.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it has. How are you?”

“Good, kid. So, how did this happen?” Eddie gestures at the hole. “Although I can’t say I’m surprised – the whole place looks pretty old.”

“Ah, y’know. We were just messing around and, like you said, it’s old.”

Stiles drops down next to Scott on the couch, pulling his feet up under himself as he watches Eddie work. Growing up, he had always tried to let people work in peace because he knows how off-putting it can be when someone’s watching you, but this is different. He needs to see this happen. It’s like, symbolic, or something. 

When the job’s done, and Eddie’s been paid and gone, Stiles turns to look at Scott. “Can we make a deal – no more breaking the floor?”

“Agreed. Do you want to let Derek know it’s been done?”

“Uh, I think he’ll be able to tell, Scott.”

“Sure, I just thought-”

“I know,” he says, nudging Scott in the side. “It’ll be fine, man. He’ll see it’s been fixed, end of story.” He doesn’t tell Scott why he doesn’t want to talk to Derek, because it hurt enough to hear Derek saying the words, let alone having to repeat them himself.

“You obsessed over Lydia for a lot longer than this.”

“One: Lydia shared classes with us, it was kind of hard to avoid her.” He sighs. “And, two: maybe I learned something from that, okay? There’s no point staying hung up on someone I have no chance with. All it does is hurt and stop me from taking chances with people I could actually stand a chance with. And I know I don’t stand a chance. I mean, if Danny and I had got together sooner we might have lasted the distance.”

Scott frowns, pulling Stiles back onto the couch when he tries to stand up. “You’re having feelings for Danny again?”

“What? No. Danny’s Danny. He’s like, my best friend apart from you. I’m just saying things might have been different between us if I’d made better decisions earlier on. You know?”

“Maybe.”

Stiles shrugs. “You’re lucky, man, you and Allison. Lydia and Jackson. You’re all secure.”

“You think?” asks Scott. “Stiles, maybe we’re in relationships but I have no idea what I want to study at college, Allison is under pressure from her mom to commit once and for all to the family business.”

“But-”

“And Lydia and Jackson are fighting.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Jackson told me when they were in town – they moved to where Lydia needed to be to succeed, right? But Jackson isn’t happy there and it’s causing problems.”

“I didn’t know – Lydia never said.”

“Well, they’re always pretty private about their problems,” says Scott. “Look, the point I’m making is that no-one, no matter what it might look like, is totally secure, Stiles. Everyone’s got problems and worries and things they have no idea what to do about.”

Stiles nods; Scott’s always pretty good at setting him straight when he’s being dramatic. “Forget about college. Dude, have you thought about getting a job with Oprah?”

“Jerk.”

“You still think I’m awesome.”

“In your-” Scott’s cut off by a knock at the door, and he stares, unmoving, at Stiles.

“Fine. I’ll answer it, then.”

“Thanks – you’re so kind.”

Stiles huffs out a laugh despite himself and opens the door. “Dad, hey. We weren’t expecting you.”

“I thought I’d drop by and see your nice newly fixed floor,” his dad says, walking inside. “Plus I found a leaflet about the Academy that I thought might be helpful for you.”

“You’re the best.” Stiles says, and he means it. Ever since that night at the restaurant his dad has been nothing but supportive of his decision, and it makes a difference.  With that, and the fact that living with Scott is going well, Stiles is grateful that at least _some_ things are working out right in his life.

~~

Avoiding Derek is really hard, Stiles discovers – just as difficult as it had been to casually run into him when that had been what Stiles wanted. He runs into him at the grocery store, on the stairs, even at Deaton’s when Derek accompanies a friend bringing a cat in for an appointment. It doesn’t seem to help that Isaac suddenly seems _very_ taken with Stiles, dragging Derek over every time they happen to be in the same air space.

Strangely, though, Stiles discovers that now he knows Derek thinks of him as not being date worthy, he doesn’t embarrass himself nearly as much as he did before. Figures.

So when Scott casually suggests they stop in to ask Derek if he minds them having a bit of a party, Stiles almost forgets Scott doesn’t know why Stiles suddenly arranged for their floor to be fixed.

“Why shouldn’t we check with Derek?” asks Scott. “He’s reasonable, and it’s a fair thing to do.”

“It’s not going to be that loud a party.”

“Well, probably not, but I thought it might be nice to ask him along, anyway. They’re cool.”

 “I don’t think it’s really their scene.” Stiles busies himself with rearranging the pile of application forms he has in front of him.

“You’re kidding, right? Besides, I already mentioned it to Isaac and he said he might pop in, so he’ll probably bring Derek.”

“ _Might_.” Stiles mutters. “ _Probably._ Why can’t anyone just say what they really mean? Is it so hard? Well, obviously it is but it shouldn’t be.”

“Okay, what’s going on?” Scott pulls Stiles’ swivel chair away from the table he’s sitting at and pulls it around so that Stiles is facing him. “Has something else happened?”

“No.”

“Tell me,” says Scott. “I’m your best friend.”

So Stiles spills all. Every last detail, from his plan to talk to Derek to realising Derek hates him.

When Stiles is finished, Scott’s mouth is pinched and his fists are clenched. “Du-ude. That is so, so wrong of him. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to make a fuss, okay. He lives near us and he doesn’t know I overheard, there’s no point in turning this into some feud.”    

“But he shouldn’t get away with it.”

“Maybe not. But this is the best way of me not getting hurt anymore, okay? I just want to forget all about it.”

“Whatever, man.” Scott’s still scowling. “He better not show up to the party, is all.”

“He won’t. Why would he?”

~~

Stiles is ashamed to admit that the party they’re hosting is the first since they moved in; maybe they are adults now, but they’re also young people with their own place which just spells P-A-R-T-Y. Still, all that means is that they need to make this party memorable, so they become the guys who hosted the awesome party instead of the guys who waited ages before having a party that was lame anyway.

Greenberg, of all people, is the first to show, which isn’t exactly a good start. But Danny turns up next, bringing beer and a group of friends with him, and just like that the party is _good._ Stiles runs back and forth between the group hanging around Danny and greeting new people arriving while Scott makes sure the kitchen stays well-stocked with alcohol and, even if Stiles says so himself, they’re doing really well right up until the moment Isaac walks in.

It isn’t Isaac that’s the problem. The problem is Derek, who walks in straight after him. He’s wearing black jeans and a grey button-down that shouldn’t look as attractive on him as they do. Watching from the doorway of the kitchen, Stiles thinks the thing that’s really making Derek look even hotter than usual is the fact he’s smiling and laughing and generally looking like he’s having a good time. It’s not _fair._

“I can’t believe _he’s_ having a good time at _our_ party.” Stiles says to Scott. “I mean, our party is awesome – but he shouldn’t be allowed to enjoy it.”

Scott glances up from where he’s arranging napkins and straws into some sort of complicated pattern – Stiles doesn’t even want to know – and asks, “who.”

“Who do you think? Mr. Stiles-is-clumsy.”

“Derek’s here?” Scott stands up, body tense all of a sudden. “I hadn’t realized. That’s – I’m going to say something to him.”

“No. No way. No fights or even remotely tense words during this party. We just ignore him manfully and be the better people. Like your mom always says.”

“So you’re ignoring him by hiding out in here?”

Stiles nods. “You go and greet people, I’ll beer-watch. And drink. I might drink.”

“Want me to send Danny in to keep you company?” Scott asks.

“There’s many reasons why you’re my best friend,” says Stiles. “And that’s one of them. Yes, please send him.”

Stiles spends the next five minutes finishing off the pattern Scott started – it’s therapeutic- until Danny squeezes his arm to get his attention.

“You okay, Stiles? Scott explained what’s going on.”

“I’m fine. Really. I mean, it’s not the first time someone said any of those things about me. And I got the floor fixed so it’s not like I have to constantly be listening to him now or anything. I’m moving on with my life, you know? I even sent in my application for the Police Academy.” 

“Really? That’s great, man.” Danny pats him on the back. “It’s gotta sting, though. And you know those things aren’t true, right? You’re not _that_ clumsy anymore, and you’re not socially awkward – you’re one of the friendliest, most personable people I know. People can’t help but like you. Anyone who doesn’t is stupid.”

“You just described yourself, Danny.”

“Yeah, well – we’re not so different really. You’re just, like, a much louder version of me.”

Stiles thinks about it for a second. “That actually makes sense, you know that-” he breaks off.

The noise of chatter that had been emitting from the living room has suddenly stopped, and then someone turns off the music too and Stiles knows there’s a problem.

“Well?” Scott very clearly asks someone and then there’s a pause and then the sound of skin hitting skin and Stiles realizes Scott’s just punched someone.

“Three guesses – no, one guess is all you’ll need – who Scott just punched,” says Stiles, turning to look at Danny in horror. “Oh man, I have to go out there. I don’t want to go out there.”

“We don’t know Scott did the punching.” Danny points out.

“ _Please._ That punch was clearly not a very forceful one. It was Scott.”

“We can hear you.” Scott shouts.

“Well, we can hear you too!”

Realizing he can’t put it off any longer, Stiles emerges from the kitchen. Scott, Derek and Isaac are standing in the centre of the room and everyone else has sort of… formed a circle around them. “Damn,” says Stiles. “It’s like being back at school.”

Isaac clears his throat. “Um. How about this conversation gets moved into the kitchen and the party continues in here?”

Stiles backs up into the kitchen without waiting for anyone to agree; it feels safer. “You were supposed to play nice,” he admonishes Scott when his friend walks into the kitchen. “What happened to that?”

“His face. It was smiling. I got angry.”

“You punched someone – actually punched Derek.” Danny says, impressed. “I mean, violence is wrong and all but, Scott, kudos – Jackson always says you don’t have that in you.”

“What I want to know,” says Derek, entering the kitchen, “is _why_ you punched me. I’m not exactly sure what I’m supposed to have done.”

Stiles leans back against the kitchen counter, deciding to stay out of it as much as possible; the situation is mortifying enough without him trying to explain and sounding as hurt as he actually is by what Derek said.

Besides, Scott seems more than willing to take the lead. “What you did was treat Stiles really badly. Bad-mouthing him behind his back, calling him _socially awkward_ which, he isn’t by the way, he was just different around you because of his crush-”

“Scott.”

“His crushing desire to get along with our neigbors.” Scott gives Stiles a pointed look. “And then you turned up here as though you’re our friend after Stiles had to hear you say those things and-”

“You heard me?” Derek asks, head snapping around to look at Stiles. “And you thought… oh. No, that-”

Stiles cuts him off, shaking his head. “Don’t try and make excuses. If you don’t like me, I’d rather just know instead of you being fake. Believe me, plenty of people don’t like me.”

“They’re idiots.” Derek says, forcefully. “So are you, a little bit. Not because you’re stupid or anything like that, but because you jumped to conclusions _again._ First you think Isaac’s my boyfriend-”

“He told you about that?” Stiles glances at Isaac. “Dude.”

“He told me.” Derek continues. “And then you what, overhear a few words and assume I’m talking about you?”

“Um, possibly. But-”

“Stiles.” Derek says, grabbing him by the arms. “That was after I saw you at the gym and you were pretty blunt - I was talking about me. And how I didn’t think _you_ could ever want to date _me._ ”

“What?” Stiles, Scott and Danny all ask at once.

“Oh man.” Derek’s eyes widen. “You had no idea. Is that – did you get that hole fixed because of what you thought you overheard? Because it seemed to happen out of the blue, that and the conversation at the gym, and I thought maybe I’d scared you away by trying to be cool but-”

“You’re rambling,” Scott interrupts. “You’re rambling like _Stiles_ does. And you were awkwardly trying to flirt with him all of the time. Oh my god, you’re Stiles 2.0 except you’re better at hiding it.”

“Thanks, Scott.” Stiles says drily, and then turns back to look at Derek. “You – you really like me?”

Derek nods. “I do. How can I prove it to you? I want to – oh, I know.” He rushes out of the room.

“Um,” says Stiles.

Danny peers out of the door. “What’s he – Stiles, I think you should see this.”

“What?”

“Just go into the living area. Seriously.”

Stiles does what he’s told, pulls open the kitchen door and... freezes. Because Derek’s still in the apartment. In fact, he’s standing in the middle of the room and he’s… jumping.

“Oh my God.” Stiles gapes. And gapes. And gapes.

And then the floor breaks.

“Stiles.” Scott says. “There’s a hole in our floor.”

~~

“You could have just kissed me.” Stiles says, later, after the party has cleared out and there’s only Derek and left. Scott and Danny have gone to check out Isaac’s comic collection – which Scott has already seen and waxed lyrical about twice – which Stiles not-so-secretly thinks is a ruse to give the two of them some space.

“What?” Derek asks. They’re sitting at opposite sides of the new hole, and Derek edges forwards so he’s sitting on the edge, legs dangling over into his own apartment. It’s probably not totally safe.

“To show me you were serious. You could have just kissed me – you didn’t have to make a hole that you nearly fell all the way through and are probably going to have to pay to fix.”

“Nah, I’ll just pay for them to install a fireman’s pole instead.” Derek quips, smirking. “That way you can get to my apartment so much faster than using the stairs. Plus, fireman thoughts.”

Stiles laughs. “Do that and you’ll never be rid of me. Ever. Anyway, my point stands – you could have just kissed me.”

Derek shakes his head. “The hole was both practical and…” he trails off.

“Symbolic?” Stiles finishes.

“Exactly. I mean, playing it cool sent out all the wrong messages to you so I figured, you know, big gesture.”

“I liked it.” Stiles swings his own legs over the hole, tangles them together with Derek’s.

“Good.”

“I applied to be a cop at the weekend. I wanted to tell you then – which is weird, because you don’t even know I want to be a cop, I don’t think I mentioned it – but I couldn’t because I thought you hated me.”

Derek shakes his head. “I couldn’t. And that’s awesome – tell me all about it.”

“Nuhuh, later. Now kiss me.”

“What?”

Stiles sighs. “Dude, I’ve dropped in the fact you could have kissed me like three times. Take a hint?”

Derek grins and goes to lean forwards, then seems to think better of it. “Gladly. But, um, maybe we should move away from the hole we could both fall through and break a leg first?”

They move away from the hole.

And they kiss. A lot.

Definitely a party to remember.


End file.
